Midnight Masquerade

by Shirlee Busbee

  His face the picture of innocence, he murmured, "But surely you are not upset. I warned you last night that there were others who would not find my advances so distasteful." His gaze slid down her body. "Or have you changed your mind?"

  "Yes! No! Oh, you confuse me!" Melissa muttered, conscious of the leap her heart had given at the expression in his eyes. Furious with herself for betraying the agitation she felt, she met his gaze squarely and said rudely, "Go away. I don't want to talk to you."

  She looked so fetchingly angry and bewildered at the same time that Dominic had a hard time suppressing the urge to jump over the fence and take her into his arms. Giving no hint of what he was feeling, he remarked, "Very well, sweetheart, since that is what you wish. Just remember that if you have second thoughts, do let me know. Until then, I assume I have your permission to amuse myself?"

  Caught in the trap of her own making, Melissa could only stare miserably at him, debating the two courses open to her. She could sink her pride and admit that she wanted him on any terms, or... She swallowed painfully. Or she could salvage her pride and pretend indifference.

  Neither choice appealed to her, and she asked in a small voice, "May I have time to think it over?"

  Dominic had never seen Melissa in such a subdued mood, and for just a moment he considered her request, but then, reviewing all her baffling actions during the brief time he had known her, he came to the conclusion that it might be dangerous to let her dwell on the subject for too long. God knew, he thought sardonically, what sort of twisted logic might govern her answer if he didn't press his unexpected advantage. Shaking his head, he said, "No, this is something we should settle now."

  Perhaps if he had shown some sign of guilt or had been more encouraging, Melissa might have given him the answer he craved. But as it was, his words were like hot knives in her flesh and she stiffened. Her eyes flashing, her chin held at a haughty angle, she spat, "Then my answer is yes!" Spinning around, she began to furiously brush Folly. "Go amuse yourself—it doesn't matter to me!"

  For a long moment Dominic stood staring at her straight back, fighting a powerful demand to tip her over his knee and beat her soundly—and he was not normally a violent man. Disappointment made his voice harsh as he answered, "Very well, madam, since that is your wish—don't expect me home this evening!" And wheeling on his heels, he stalked away.

  Melissa didn't see him leave—she was too busy fighting back the bitter tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. But the tears finally won, and a few minutes later Zachary found the bride of less than twenty-four hours sobbing her heart out on Folly's shiny neck. In one swift bound, Zack was over the fence and his strong arms were wrapped comfortingly around her slender body.

  "What is it, Lissa?" he demanded. "What has happened between you? I just passed Dominic and thought he was going to tear out my liver!"

  Melissa froze at the first touch of Zachary's arms, thinking unbelievably that it was Dominic, but at the sound of Zack's voice she went limp. Turning in his arms, she lifted a tearstained, heart-wrenchingly miserable face to him and choked, "I hate him! He is an unfeeling, unprincipled monster! I will not stay married to him one minute longer than it takes to get a divorce!"

  Zachary was appalled. He couldn't help but be aware that his sister's marriage was not the love match it was rumored to be. He knew Melissa too well, and while he had gone along with her subterfuge, he had wondered what had really prompted the sudden engagement. But he liked Dominic very much, and since Melissa had appeared willing to marry him, he had assumed that all would be well. But now... now with Dominic in such a foul, unapproachable mood and his dear sister in tears, Zachary was very much afraid that he had badly miscalculated the situation. As for a divorce, he shuddered at the thought of it. Even if Dominic were the unprincipled monster that Melissa labeled him, a divorce was not to be considered lightly. In fact, divorce was almost unheard of, and it invariably brought shame and disgrace to both parties—especially the woman.

  All his protective instincts aroused, Zachary held Melissa against his chest, murmuring soft words of encouragement, but his mind was racing. What the devil had Dominic done to make his sister so unhappy? And what had Melissa done to make Dominic so furious? And how was he going to resolve it? If it could be resolved? Even though Zachary was willing to abet Melissa in whatever action she desired, he wasn't altogether convinced that whatever problem existed between the newlyweds was one-sided. Despite the gravity of the situation, he smiled faintly. He knew Lissa's flaming temper and stubborn nature and he suspected that Dominic, too, possessed a formidable temper and could be equally as stubborn. Not the best combination for a tranquil marriage, he mused uneasily, his smile fading. But... But twenty-four hours was hardly long enough to give the marriage a chance, and looking down into Melissa's face, he said quietly, "I think you need to consider more fully what you want to do. Those vows you took yesterday are not to be lightly discarded."

  The memory of Dominic embracing Deborah searing across her brain, Melissa snapped, "Well, I wish you would tell my husband that!"

  At Zachary's speculative look Melissa bit her lip, longing to call the words back. The last thing she wanted was to involve others in the disaster of her marriage. Besides, Zachary might take it into his head to confront Dominic; even, she realized with a sickening thud of her heart, challenge him to a duel.

  Deciding that she had to distract Zachary, she wiped away the last of her tears and smiled tremulously at him. With more than a little truth, she got out in a shaky voice, "Oh, Zack! You know my wretched tongue and temper, and I am afraid that I have, as usual, let them run wild without considering the consequences. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson after all these years, wouldn't you?"

  Zachary wasn't convinced, but he was agreeable for the moment to go along with whatever Melissa wanted. And if she wanted to prevent him from probing too deeply, then he would allow her to do so—for his age, Zachary was a very astute young man.

  Cocking an eyebrow, he asked, "So what are you going to do about making up with your husband?"

  Melissa had no intention of "making up" with Dominic—at least not at the present time. Her pride was too deeply wounded, and the knowledge that her husband had immediately sought out another woman had been a painful blow to her wary heart. But she had to say something to Zachary which would ease his mind about this morning's events. "Well, first I shall have to apologize for my regrettable temper, and then..." She shrugged. "I shall think of something!"

  Not at all deceived by Melissa's words, Zachary murmured, "Oh, I'm sure you will. I just hope it isn't something that drives an even wider chasm between the two of you!"

  Despondently Melissa turned away. She doubted that anything she could possibly do could make matters worse. What, she wondered miserably, could be worse than being married to a man who didn't love you, hadn't wanted to marry you and was a libertine in the bargain! The future looked very bleak indeed from where she stood. Hiding the distress that filled her, she kept her face averted from Zachary and said with an attempt at lightness, "Don't worry, Zack. It is just a lover's quarrel." And until she said it out loud, she had not realized how desperately she wished it had been a quarrel between two lovers; at least then there would have been a chance of reconciliation.

  That thought stayed with her throughout the wretched hours that followed. She didn't remain at Willowglen—she dared not, fearful that Zachary would pry the truth out of her, and after chatting with him for several minutes, she departed. He had asked no further questions, although she could tell that he was consumed with curiosity and he even limited his opinion about her unorthodox riding apparel to a few brief comments as she prepared to ride away. A teasing glint in the topaz eyes so like hers, he drawled, "You look quite fetching in that new gown, Lissa. Shame you got it all covered with horsehair."

  She grimaced as she glanced down at the once-immaculate gown but made no reply and guided her horse away from the plantation. She was in no hurry to arr
ive back at the cottage—what waited for her there? Nothing but empty rooms and empty hopes and dreams. But eventually she did return to the cottage, and leaving her horse with the groom, she wandered up to her room.

  Strange, to think how hopeful she had been when she had ridden away this morning and now... now she thought her heart would break.

  She allowed Anna to help her out of her dress, oblivious to the woman's scolding and shocked comments about the condition of the expensive garment. The soothing bath Anna had prepared helped restore her physical well-being, but nothing, she thought soulfully, could ever heal her heart. And it was in those dark moments that she began to examine her feelings about Dominic Slade more fully. What she discovered did not help her spirits in the least. To her dismay and horror, she realized that she had fallen in love with her husband, womanizer or not, and she wanted him... wanted him in all the ways a woman in love could want a man.

  But how, she wondered painfully, could she attract his interest, let alone his love? If only I had acted more wisely last night... if I had not sent him away so cruelly.... Yet even if I had acted differently, would it have mattered at all?

  She wandered around her pretty bedroom, her thoughts on her erring husband. She had accepted the notion that Dominic did not love her and that their marriage was not going to change his ways. Now all she had to do, she mused, was to conceive of some way to change his nature... to make him fall in love with her and to renounce all other women for the rest of his life. Ha!

  Growing more depressed by the minute, she sank down on one of the green velvet chairs, the filmy skirts of her amber robe rippling around her feet. A length of black silk ribbon had been woven through Melissa's tawny curls by Anna, and leaning back in the chair, she play with it, her thoughts muddled.

  Should she pretend that last night and this morning had never happened? Greet Dominic when he came home with courtesy and affection? Her mouth twisted. Knowing her own volatile temper and incendiary nature, she doubted she could play such a meek role. She was far more likely to break something over his head than to meet him with gentle smiles and open arms. Besides, if she seemed to accept his actions, wouldn't that encourage him to continue with his deplorable behavior? More than likely, she admitted grimly. But she couldn't rail and scream at him either—that might lead him to believe that she cared about him. Which she did, she conceded miserably. Terribly.

  Well, if she couldn't act as meek as milk or like a jealous fishwife, what was she to do? Some sort of peace had to be established between them before she could begin to think of some way to gain his affection. There had to be some middle ground for her; some way to salvage her pride and put a good face forward, yet not appear to condone his actions.

  Frowning, she stared off across the room, wishing she were more sophisticated, that she had had more dealings with men, that there was an older, experienced woman she could talk to about this situation. For a brief moment, Leonie Slade's face danced before her eyes, but then she shook her head. No. Leonie would invariably be on Dominic's side—the deep affection between them had been obvious to Melissa. And then there was the fact that she dreaded the idea of another person being involved in this painful state of affairs. The problem was between her and Dominic, and at all costs she wanted it to stay that way.

  She sighed. Perhaps she should just accept her fate and resign herself to being an unloved, neglected wife with a philandering husband who treated her kindly and generously. She shuddered at the vision of the long, empty, joyless years stretching before her.

  If only there was a way to catch Dominic's interest. To make him look at her with new eyes. To challenge him...

  Eyes narrowed in thought, she considered the possibilities, her mood beginning to lighten a little. The majority of men, even the most apathetic, tended to be possessive of their wives. Did she dare hope that she could arouse a jealous streak in Dominic? And if he did prove to be jealous, could she build upon that unstable emotion? It could be a dangerous and foolish path that she was thinking of treading, but none of the alternatives—meek acceptance or constant battles—appealed.

  Chewing on her bottom lip, she pondered the situation, a glimmer of a plan occurring to her. If she were to act indifferent to his philandering and suggest that they both be allowed to pursue their own interests, provided, of course, that they were discreet... If he had the slightest flicker of feeling for her, wouldn't he object to such a distasteful arrangement? And if he did object, perhaps she could nurture his feelings of possessiveness into something deeper and more lasting.

  Melissa was conscious that there was an inherent riskiness in her plan and that she was not following the wisest course. But Dominic's actions this morning had hurt her badly, and then there was her stubborn pride and a real need to protect her newly acknowledged love for him. She was confused, jealous, hurt and angry all at the same time; considering that this was her first foray into the lists of love, she could be forgiven for choosing such a foolhardy method of attracting a husband's roving eye. With a sudden sparkle of mischief in her topaz eyes, she smiled. She would neither argue with nor reproach her errant husband, but would let him believe that she had decided to follow the old adage—what was good for the gander was good for the goose!

  Chapter 17

  Despite the misgivings she harbored about the wisdom of her plan, Melissa felt better for having decided upon a course of action. She had never been one to repine and wring her hands, being more likely to leap first and look later, and so it proved on this occasion. But before she could put her scheme into operation, she had to decide upon which gentleman of her acquaintance she could safely embroil in her plan.

  Her first choice was her cousin Royce, but since she had no intention of telling whichever gentleman she finally selected why she had so suddenly become interested in him, it made things a bit awkward. Royce, she admitted ruefully, would know what she was playing at the moment she fluttered her lashes at him. And she dared not choose someone who might take her flirtation seriously. She did not want to find herself in the ridiculous situation of having to fend off amorous intentions aroused by her encouragement of them, nor did she wish to cause some poor gentleman to think that she was in love with him. Having discovered how painful it was to love someone who didn't return that love, she was not going to condemn some unsuspecting devil to that same fate.

  After selecting and discarding several gentlemen, including her previously rejected suitor, John Newcomb, she finally and reluctantly settled on Julius Latimer as her foil. Latimer was old enough and sophisticated enough to handle a flirtation, and she suspected that although he might have wanted her for his mistress, she had not touched his heart—nor could she. If he even had a heart, she thought darkly.

  Latimer might have written her a contrite and apologetic letter in an attempt to smooth over his dastardly actions, but Melissa wasn't about to forget those anxious days before Dominic's offer to buy Folly had saved her from the fate Latimer had planned for her. She didn't trust him one little bit... but she wasn't above entangling him in her rash scheme to make her husband jealous. It would serve him right, she decided with a spurt of righteous indignation, for having treated her so insultingly.

  Melissa had no fear that she could keep Latimer at a distance when she chose to do so—she was far more adept at repulsing advances than she was at making them. But she was uneasy about using him in this way, astute enough to realize that she might set in motion events over which she had no control. If she could have thought of anyone other than Latimer with whom to embark upon an apparent flirtation, she certainly would have, but no one else presented himself to her mind. It would, she conceded unenthusiastically, have to be Latimer who became the object of her amorous interest.

  Having come to these conclusions, all that now remained was for her to inform her husband of her decisions concerning the tenor of their marriage. She grimaced. For one long, yearning moment she considered simply throwing her arms about her husband's neck and begging for his lo
ve, but she put this from her mind. Beyond being a generous gentleman, he had never given any indication that he cared whether his wife loved him or not, and she wasn't about to leave herself open to rejection by Dominic.

  As the hours passed and she waited anxiously for Dominic's return, her resolve to fight fire with fire hardened. By the time the clock struck the hour of four in the morning, she came to two unpleasant determinations: her husband of less than forty-eight hours really was not coming home this night, and she had no choice but to go ahead with her reckless plan. Dry-eyed and miserable, she sought out her lonely bed.

  Dominic would have given much to find himself in a lonely bed, any bed, for that matter, than the one in which he found himself. Which really wasn't a bed at all, merely a handy pile of straw on the ground.

  He had spent the hours since he had parted so furiously with Melissa wandering about the countryside, avoiding contact with his fellow man. No more than Melissa did he wish to involve others in their quarrel, and as no ready explanation for his presence alone in the neighborhood occurred to him, he had decided it would be best if he remained unseen by anyone. Since he had sworn to his shrewish wife that he would not be home this evening, he intended to do just that—hence his bed of straw.

  Longingly he thought of his soft feather bed with its clean linen sheets as he tossed and twisted, trying to find a position in which to sleep. But sleep proved impossible, and finally, hands behind his head, he gave up the pretense and lay there staring up at the star-sprinkled, black sky.

  For the life of him, he could not understand where he had gone wrong or what he had ever done to deserve the position in which he now found himself. Married, which was bad enough, but married to a witch who both infuriated and enchanted him. If he had ever envisioned being married, he had certainly not intended to spend his second night of marriage hiding like a felon on a bed of straw behind his own stable.